


Violet Hour

by Xeronycteris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Harry Potter, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Loss of Virginity, Love Potion/Spell, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 10:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19004053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeronycteris/pseuds/Xeronycteris
Summary: Erotentia, the cousin of Amortentia, causes burning lust in the drinker that can only be soothed through sex. Harry Potter is just unlucky enough to be dosed. Voldemort is kind enough to help out.





	Violet Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own zero rights to the Harry Potter series.
> 
> Title credit: The Violet Hour, Sea Wolf
> 
> Warning: Non Graphic Attempted Rape, Dubious Consent, Love Potion.
> 
> I have nothing. I'm sorry. You will receive a few follow ups once I write them, instead of chapters, such as morning after, pregnancy, and the final get together.

It's midnight when she wakes, fire burning under her skin. Her hands clench in the sheets of her bed and she writhes against the restricting fabric. The burning in her blood is unlike anything she's ever felt. All she can think is a name; _Michael, Michael, Michael, Michael!_ Yet, through the haze of the fever fog, something feels off. Wrong.

She hates Corner. He's snobby, rude, and he'd tried to force himself on her in the quidditch showers after the Gryffindor/Slytherin game. Just eariler that afternoon he'd cornered her and offered her apology in the form of a case of butterbeer, which he clearly poisoned given she's boiling alive. Harry doesn't care what the burning wants, she'd rather go to Voldemort.

There is a loud pop, like apparition despite the fact it is impossible from her bed in the Gryffindor tower, and then she is standing before the bed of her groggy half-asleep mortal enemy as if summoned to him by the thought.

"Harry?" Voldemort's voice is groggy as he sits, and the confusion in that mumbled word is palpable.

Harry isn't paying attention to his confusion. She stares at the bone pale of his skin, the too thin shape of his serpentine body. Voldemort sleeps in the nude, apparently, and her eyes are riveted to the long white cock standing at attention, no longer covered by the dark silk sheets. Before she's fully registered what she's doing she's crawled up into his lap, hiked her nightgown up, and sunk down upon him with a whimper. Voldemort gives her a strangled cut off moan, his cold hands coming to trap her from moving more than desperate writhing circles in his lap.

"Harry," Voldemort sounds only slightly more awake, sleep addled and confused by her sitting in his lap, "What are you doing?"

Harry laughs softly, unsure, as she rocks in his lap, the burning soothed only barely by the feel of his cock stretching her open. "I need... I need you." She gasps out, having difficulty thinking through the feverish haze. "Please Voldemort, please! I need you to fuck me!"

He lets go of her hips and grabs hold of her face, ruby eyes glowing unnaturally in the dark. She takes advantage of him releasing her to raise herself up then spear herself down on his length again with a sharp cry. He wraps one arm around her, forcing her still again, searching her face for something. Harry whimpers in protest, then moans as he licks her throat.

"You are running a fever, your sweat is sweet, your pupils have pink rings, and your skin smells like orchids." He observes. "These are signs of consuming a lesser known cousin to Amortentia known as Erotentia."

Harry spares a brief thought to what Erotentia might be, what it's affects are, and why it seems only soothed by the feeling of the cock inside her. Then she decides she does not care. She needs him to move, not talk about useless things.

"Please!" She begs him, rocking in his lap as best as she can trapped as she is.

"Sweetheart," the endearment startles her into sitting still. Sounding like concentrating is hard, Voldemort continues, "I need you to concentrate and answer my questions. Can you do that for me?"

Harry shakes her head. "Ask me later."

"Questions first," Voldemort commands, "and after, I'll give you what you need."

Harry circles her hips and tries to give him as much attention as he is asking for. "Yes." She says. "Okay, ask."

"Has anyone given you anything recently, food or beverage? Anything that stands out?" He inquires.

She forces herself to concentrate, to think, and answer the question. "Butterbeer!" She gasps.

"Butterbeer, okay, good girl." She feels warmed by the praise. "Why does it stand out?"

"It was an appology." She gasps out, writhing, desperately seeking friction.

Warm wet pools slick between her legs, but his grip is too tight for her to move. She is rewarded for her answers and patience by him gyrating her hips down as he thrusts up, grinding his cock up against a delicious spot inside her that makes her see stars.

"Good, that's good sweetie. Two more." Harry nods, desperate to finish the inquiries so she can move again. "What was the appology for?"

Harry moans and rocks in his lap. "For trying to fuck me after quidditch a couple weeks ago. I said no and he kept trying to take off my clothes until I bit him and broke his nose."

Voldemort chuckles. "Good girl." He nuzzles her chin up and then latches his teeth to her pulse point, sucking her throat. Harry groans, arching into him as much as she can trapped in his arms. "Name?" Voldemort asks after releasing her.

She doesn't know why it matters, but she still gasps out, "Michael Corner."

"You were so good sweetie, both for fighting your instincts to go to him, and for answering my questions." He praises. "Thank you for being patient."

Voldemort releases her waist and Harry nearly sobs from relief. She can't quite stop herself from crying out in pleasure as she raises herself and lowers herself swiftly, using his body to provide her the delicious stretch and burn she so craves. His long cold fingers find a spot just in front of where his cock is entering her, and the sensation of his fingers rubbing her as his cock hits the sweet spot inside her is suddenly too much. Heat like lava pools in her stomach and suddenly everything is mortifyingly wet.

"Did I pee on you?" She asks in horror.

Voldemort chuckles. "No darling." He kisses her throat. "Haven't you ever come before?'

"I've never had sex." Harry shrugs. "I've tried masturbating but I'm not exactly comfortable with it, and it always leaves me more frustrated than when I start."

For some reason that makes him look oddly horrified. "You're a virgin?" The question must be rhetorical, because before she can answer he's speaking again. "That makes this way worse."

The heat floods back into her and she clenches her fists. "Why isn't... nggg.. it stopping?" She gasps.

"Erotentia is made by forgetting to add moonstone and stiring counterclockwise when adding the rose thorns in Amortentia. It's so similar I doubt the boy knew what he was doing." Voldemort explains, though she's not sure why. "Depending on the strength of the intended potion, you may need to orgasm several times before it receeds."

"What if I get you wet again?" She pants even as she starts to gyrate her hips, seeking the same overwhelming pleasure as earlier.

"Then I will be very flattered, my dear." He thrusts up to meet her and she cries out.

Voldemort pulls her night gown up over her head and discards it. His lips attach to her throat again, biting and sucking and kissing as he thrusts up into her. His hands seem set to explore every inch of her exposed skin before settling on her hips while he sets a pace that is much faster than she had been capable of, and Harry clings desperately to him. Each thrust is borderline painful, overwhelming but not enough, designed to hit that spot inside her with nearly every single hit. She moans and writhes in his lap, desperately seeking to sooth the burning.

When she comes the second time, squirting on his stomach and thighs, everything suddenly slams into focus. Suddenly she is completely aware of how the potion was affecting her, how consuming her need for release, her need for _him_ was, and she feels sick to her stomach.

She never expected she'd feel grateful to Voldemort. She doesn't know why she came to him, though she can't deny he's been anything but kind and patient concidering she didn't even ask if he was willing. God. She gave Voldemort her virginity. She was saving herself until after the war, but now that's no longer an option because Michael fucking Corner apparently wanted to rape her bad enough to give her botched Amortentia.

"Voldemort," she starts in a wrecked voice, ready to tell him she's no longer under the affects of the potion, but she never gets to finish.

Voldemort reaches around her and flips them so he's on top of her, pinning one of her arms to the bed, his hand grasping hers. "I know sweetie." He groans, then he thrusts back into her with a moan like a prayer. "It's okay Harry. I've got you."

Even as it draws a startled moan from her lips, Harry realises that he hasn't come yet. Voldemort has been letting her use him, letting her seek her own pleasure with no thought of his own. Even now, obvious as it is that he's chasing his own needs now too, each thrust is carefully positioned to give her the maximum amount of pleasure. One hand anchors his weight and holds her hand down, while the other rubs circles on a place she thinks has to be her clit. She's not very familiar, they don't teach sex ed at Hogwarts. It seems selfish to inform him that she doesn't need to come again, that the potion is no longer affecting her, because she is positive if she asked he would stop no matter how far along he was. He's been being kind and patient, shouldn't that deserve a reward? As her own patience had earned her the same form of prize earlier.

"Oh god," she pants, "Nggg... Voldem-Ah! Please!"

Harry wraps her legs around his waist and reaches up with her free hand to touch his face. Catching the hint Harry didn't even realize she was giving, Voldemort leans down to kiss Harry almost desperately. Her toes curl as he devours her mouth, tangling their tongues together. He lets her hand free and shifts her thigh up higher on his hip, she squeezes her legs tighter around him. He takes one of her hands in his and guides it so that he can teach her the movements her fingers need to pleasure herself. It's incredibly arousing to be taught something so indecent by this man, to feel his fingers guiding her movements until she knows the exact way to move her smaller softer fingers to create just as much pleasure as he can. Apparently satisfied with her fast learning, Voldemort lets go of her so he can brace both hands by her head.

He thrusts up into her, hard and deep and fast, just on the edge of too much, too rough, too painful. Harry cries out with each thrust, pleading and broken off calls of his name as he slams into her. She whimpers and moans and clings to him as she works with him to get off.

"Yes," Voldemort pants against her lips, "That's it precious girl. Come for me."

The orgasm sneaks up on her, like a rubber band snapping, as if just his words caused her to come. She arches up against him with a scream of his name. He goes to pull back and she hooks her legs and arms around him to stop him.

"Sweetheart," he prompts gently, "if you don't let me go I'm going to come inside you, and I doubt you are on any form of contraception."

She isn't, but Harry still wants to feel him come inside her. "Please," she gasps. "Please."

Noble to a fault, Voldemort gives her a regretful kiss. "You'll regret that decision later love. It's the poti-Ah!"

He cuts off with a startled moan when Harry flips them over so she can hold him down, trapping his wrists by his head as she rides him. She is in control, not the potion, and she wants to feel him inside her. Even if he is right about it being a bad idea. His face is one of startled, delighted pleasure, all composure lost. He thrusts up into her to meet her and she feels more powerful than she's ever felt, to have him at her mercy.

"Harry.. please! Darling, I... nggg... I ca-" she kisses him to shut him up.

He pulls his hands out of her grasp, only to wrap his arms around her waist, trapping her body flush against his as he savagely drives up into her. The friction is too much and she is startled into another breathtaking orgasm. As her inner walls tighten around him, Voldemort gives a strangled cut off moan of her name, releasing deep inside her. She can feel the perverse heat of his seed spilling inside her and the sensation of that alone almost causes her to orgasm again.

Panting, he releases her, and Harry doesn't move off of him, off his chest. They are both sweaty and satiated. Voldemort rubs soothing circles on her back as he presses gentle kisses to her cheeks and forehead. He noses at her throat and cheeks, breathing heavy against her lips, eyes closed as if he's as exhausted as her. Concidering she woke him she doesn't doubt it. Eventually Voldemort hooks his hands around her waist and he gently turns so that she's lying on her side. She groans as he slips out of her. She can feel the wetness of his spunk spilling out of her, pooling between her legs as she faces him.

"Voldemort," she tries again as soon as she can speak and she is once more misunderstood. Voldemort groans as if in tired protest, and then pushes her back as he comes between her legs. "I'm not - Ah!"

He starts to suck mind numbing kisses in a trail from her neck to her privates. She can't even find her voice to speak. He bites a sensitive spot on her thigh and heat lances through her, drawing a moan from her lips. His tongue slides across her overly sensitive folds and Harry cries out. He grins against her lower lips and then sets to devouring her. She loses her self in the maddening sensation, then she remembers that she is basically forcing him, so long as he thinks the potion is affecting her, and she feels guilty. Not trusting herself to speak while he's doing such sinful things to her, Harry reaches down and touches his face, but it seems to only egg him on. He sucks and licks at her, using his mouth to pleasure her in ways she didn't even know he could. Her fifth orgasm hits her like a curse, leaving her panting and boneless. Voldemort moves fast, covering her body with his and leaning in to kiss her. She can taste the salty, bitter, sweet flavor of their mingled juices on his talented tongue. He kisses her throat, rough hands sliding over her breasts, obviously planning to go back down on her. Before he can, she stops him, and he gives her a quizzical look, looming over her.

"Tried to tell you earlier," she begins, panting harshly, "I'm not under the affects of the potion anymore."

Voldemort reaches out and tilts her head at an angle. "Pink rings are gone." He murmurs, obviously to himself. "How long?"

"Second orgasm." She gasps.

Voldemort stills, then looks away as if ashamed. "I'm sorry. I should have checked to see if you were okay instead of assuming I knew what you needed."

Harry laughs softly. "No, don't apologize." She tilts his head back to stare at her. "I chose not to tell you. I needed it to be me who chose to fuck you for once, not the potion. And, in case you don't remember, you took care of me first, then yourself. You were worried about coming in me even when you thought I didn't know what I was doing or thinking."

The reminder makes him turn to her. "Fuck. Do you have any clue how dangerous that was? You could get pregnant, Harry."

She hadn't thought about that. Well, she had, she just hadn't cared in the moment. She cared more about how it would feel to have him come inside her. Of course, the more she thinks about it the more she wants it again. She squirms against the rising heat.

"Are you seriously turned on right now?" Voldemort asks curiously. There is no malice, or exasperation in his tone, just curiosity and wonder.

"Sorry." Harry breathes. "I know you weren't exactly willing and -"

Voldemort's laugh interrupts her. "Harry, love, had you ever thought to ask, while not under the influence of a deadly sex potion, you'd have found me to be exceedingly willing." Harry blinks, slightly confused. "My desire for you is not in question, believe me, though I would have liked to wait until you were eighteen if I could have. It was bad enough to fantasize about you as young as you are, especially given how you feel about me, but I wasn't planning to try anything until after you got out of school. I'm more concerned about you."

"Me?" Harry questions, bewildered by both his admission of desire and his misplaced concerns. "Why me?"

"You weren't in the position to be given a choice." Voldemort rubs soothing lines down her side as he speaks. It only fans the flames between her legs. "That burning, that was the potion literally trying to kill you if you didn't have sex. You were in no state of mind to give consent. Had it been any other situation I would have made you wait until after the potion stopped affecting your mind, but if I hadn't you would have died."

Harry shivers in horror at that. Had her life meant so little to the horny boy responsible for this mess? She almost hopes he was trying to brew Amortentia and fucked it up, because otherwise he would have violated her at the cost of her very life. It's horrifying to think about.

Voldemort shifts her closer, drawing her into a hug, and Harry giggles when she feels his hard length against her. "You're hard." She points out, wiggling against him.

"Blame the beautiful woman in my bed." He rocks his hips into her and Harry gasps. "Stay still, I'm trying to comfort you."

"I'd be a lot more comfortable if you sooth the ache between my thighs." She moans. "Or do you need formal written consent?"

Voldemort laughs. "Yes."

She knows he's just joking back at her, but Harry twists out of his arms to grab the quill she'd seen on his nightstand. "Hold still and don't look." She scratches letters into his skin. They stand out in pink against the unnatural white of his skin. With each one his abs twitch and she wonders if it hurts, tickles, or if he's aroused by her scratching him. "There. My full name and everything."

Voldemort chuckles and reads the scratched message on his stomach. _I, Lily-James Harriet Potter, hearby give Tom Marvolo Riddle formal permission to fuck me._ She'd signed it too and added Girl-Who-Never-Dies under her name. She's surprised when he grabs the pen and pins her down. All three, she realises, as he scratches something into her skin. It is lightly ticklish, slightly painful, and painfully arousing. When he sits back, smug, Harry sits up and laughs at his. _I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, formally accept Lily-James Harriet Potter's permission, and extend my own permission_. He has also signed it, and added Voldemort, Lord of Darkness beneath his signature.

Harry has enough time to to read it while he puts the quill back on his bedside table, then Voldemort is pushing her so she's on her stomach. He slides his cock down through her folds, not entering her, and then presses her thighs together. He pulls back and thrusts. It's maddening, the slide of his cock across her sensitive well fucked hole, never entering where she needs him most, teasing her relentlessly. Maddeningly, frustratingly, perfectly wonderful. Harry squirms and writhes beneath him, desperate to position her ass just right so he'll enter her, but he holds her down with a hand to her back.

"What's the magic word?" Voldemort sing-songs breathlessly from above.

Please, he means, but Harry doesn't want to beg. Ornery, she twists her head back and says, "Avada Kedarvra?"

Voldemort laughs. "Not even close." He reaches a hand under her and starts to use his hand to rub everywhere but that nub she desires his long fingers to touch. "I'm just going to tease you until you ask nicely darling girl."

Harry groans and lets her head thump onto the pillow. "You are evil." She pants desperately. "Please!"

Voldemort bites her shoulder. "Your wish is my command." He promises huskily.

He releases her so she can arch her back, point her ass in the air, and he enters her hypersensitive body in a single thrust. She screams his name in ecstasy, toes curling, fingers grasping at the silk sheets. Harry rocks back to meet his thrusts, catching his hand when it reaches to play with her.

"I wanna come from just your cock." She gasps out, embarrassed by her own lewdness.

Voldemort shudders above her. "Keep it up and I won't last any longer than a virgin teenager, dear one. I could come already from just how tight you are."

"So come." She purrs, though the seductive effect is brokenby how hoarse her voice comes out. "Use me like I used you, then if I haven't come use your mouth to take care of me. Fill me up."

Voldemort groans, pulls out, and flips her so she's on her back. He crawls between her legs. "Harry please." He kisses her. "It's dangerous."

"I like danger." She gasps, digging her nails into his back.

He groans and drives deep and hard, drawing loud cries from her lips. She can feel the preasure building up, heat coiling in her loins. He's right about how dangerous him coming in her is, more than anyone else because they are on opposing sides of the war, Voldemort may very well kill her soon. She may kill him. For some reason though it seems right for her to be his in every way. It wasn't a coincidence, her coming here. Somehow, feverish, her potion addled brain trying to lead her to another, she knew that she would be safe with him.

"Please." She whimpers.

Voldemort shudders and then picks up his pace, thrusting erratic and painful. For some reason the pain tilts her over the edge and she comes shaking beneath him as he fucks her through her orgasm, panting her name against her lips, thrusting as viciously as he can. He doesn't last long after her, spilling inside her just as she had been hoping he would.

Panting, breathless, they lay there for several minutes to catch their breath. Harry's heart pounds, Voldemort rests his head against hers, red eyes blown wide, his fingers tangled in her messy brunette curls. He pulls out of her and pulls her so that she is laying half on his chest, half beside him, as he lies on the bed, breathing harshly.

"God you're insatiable." He mutters into her hair.

Harry laughs, then smiles sorrowfully. "I should get back." She informs. "I'm supposed to go to my friends house for the winter holidays. They'll wonder where I am."

Voldemort holds her tight. "Stay." He murmurs. "Sleep. I'll take you to the Burrow tomorrow."

Harry is so tired she doesn't even question how he knows she's going to the Burrow, or how he knows where they live. "Promise you won't hurt anyone?"

"I swear, darling." He kisses her temple. "Now go to sleep. It's four in the morning and I have to get up in three hours."

Harry snuggles close. "Goodnight snakeface."

He chuckles. "Sweet dreams, chosen one."


End file.
